Continuing Lāna‘i Togetherness
by Marlou Lamblack (from the Laciste ‘Ohana)
Imagine … a world of little keiki screaming to avoid wet feet while others build sandcastles and trap small crabs. In the water, young adults perch on friends’ shoulders, fighting to see who falls first. From a distance, parents are talking stories as the smell of ‘ono steak, marinated chicken, and ‘opihi grilling lingers in the Hulopo‘e air. Teenagers tan on the sand, listening to the waves hitting the shore. Memories of my childhood were exactly like this — every weekend. Automatic.
Lanaians spent every weekend at Keōmoku or Hulopo‘e beach. Even Father Flor, the Sacred Hearts Catholic Church priest, would say, “when you go to the bitch, don’t porget to bring your balon.” Even he knew it was a common event . . . Automatic.
On weekends, ‘ohana packed fishing gear, fueled their ATVs, loaded camping tents and coolers, and grabbed food and drinks from Pine Isle’s, International’s or Richard’s with Aunty Cassandra jotting items on carbon paper for later payment. This was common . . . Automatic.
In town, five HUGE pots with propane tanks were going all at once, waiting to fry some ‘ono food. Tata gathers the ookie ookie dessert while uncle fries lumpias and chicken. Ninong simmers his famous pork adobo while smoking a cigarette. Nanas, aunties, ninangs and moms peel carrots and cut vegetables for the pansit while chatting about their husbands and even their sex lives. Young teenagers help shape the ookie ookie dessert to get ready for tata while their moms tell them, “Close your ears.” The Filipino Clubhouse is filled with smoke while cousins decorate the hall for a special event. This was a common thing . . . Automatic.
At our house, we had a huge karaoke system with multiple microphones for duet performances. Competition was real. The machine scored how well you followed the rhythm, regardless of singing ability. We sang Celine Dion, Madonna, Paula Abdul, TLC and even attempted to rap Tupac or Biggie Smalls. While others sang, we flipped through photo albums, giggling at secret admirer pictures, and the girls gossiped about boys as my uncle takes away the mic to sing, “Peelings, nuttin’ more den peelings.” He scored surprisingly well, even with his accent. Then aunty takes the mic and sings, “Mr. DJ can I make a request?” These were my unforgettable teenage memories.
Birthdays, graduations, baby showers, weddings and welcoming Philippine spouses newly arrived to Lāna‘i were common celebrations with fellow Lanaians. At the Union Hall, buffet lines often stretched out to Richard’s as people loaded their paper plates with pinakbet, pork guisantes, dinardaraan and puto. While waiting, the MC would introduce the special guest and the ninongs and ninangs sponsoring the child’s first birthday. Later, the DJ would cue up the “Macarena” and “Electric Slide,” while metal folding chairs were set up for musical chairs, leaving the last two participants with sore butts as one inevitably hit the floor. These were my cherished memories of hall parties.
Although I moved away from Lāna‘i years ago and now live on O‘ahu, my memories of growing up as part of the LHES Class of 1997 remain vivid. Weekends like these were a constant — every weekend. Automatic. Over the years, with each trip back home, I’ve come to appreciate my childhood even more. Yet these visits bring the bittersweet realization that the tatas who cooked the ono desserts, the uncles who fried lumpias and the ninangs who peeled carrots have since passed. In the past three years, I’ve also lost two dear classmates and my dad, who left us with countless cherished family memories. While I feel deep heartache reflecting on my last interactions with them, I also hold immense love and respect for the nanas and tatas who shaped my happy childhood. Inspired by them, I’ve worked to recreate special memories with fellow Lāna‘i alumni through the years.
“Through these gatherings, our children inherit the same sense of connection and community we grew up with, keeping Lāna‘i alive in all our hearts.”
My mom and dad’s words, “No porget to inbite your prends,” inspired me to gather my high school physical fitness teammates and coaches at Pele’s, where we used trophies as centerpieces and reminisced about mainland competitions. My LHES Class of 1997 classmates continue to connect through Zoom and daily texts, bridging the distance between us. Although most of us don't live on Lāna‘i anymore, we still gather for reunions at classmates’ homes, food buffets and sunsets at a golf course with live music. Our 10th reunion was held at Mānele Ballroom, just like our Project Grad (mahalo, Aunty Susu!), and our 20th at Hotel Lāna‘i. As we plan our 30th reunion in Vegas, these events continue to celebrate our lasting connection to Lāna‘i.
Alumni gatherings bring pieces of Lāna‘i to our lives beyond the island. At Aiea Bowl, we brought along spouses and children, sharing meals at a Mexican restaurant, dancing and singing at Krazy Karaoke. These events, decorated in green and gold with pineapples and Lāna‘i photos, let our kids experience a bit of the Lāna‘i memories we treasure. Through games, prizes and gag gifts like canned goods and saimin, they glimpse the joy and humor that shaped our childhoods. We also proudly supported Lāna‘i teams — cheering for Coach Ross Morita at the volleyball states and Coaches MaryLou and Christian with the Lāna‘i girls basketball team. From pizzas and baked goods for the athletes to celebrations at Dave and Busters for the Romero brothers, the shared spirit of Lāna‘i lives on. As one of the brothers said, “Lāna‘i was in the air.” Through these gatherings, our children inherit the same sense of connection and community we grew up with, keeping Lāna‘i alive in all our hearts.
The cultural traditions of togetherness will continue to pave the way for the next generations because if you are from Lāna‘i, you will always have Lāna‘i with you. “Lāna‘i Style,” “Pineapple Style,” “Green and Gold Style,” always and forever.
In 1997, Marlou received the Lāna‘i Times Scholarship and has been sharing her articles ever since.
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Email: marlou_joyce@hotmail.com | Cell: 808-721-6339